


Cigarettes

by orphan_account



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Battling Addictions, Cigarettes, F/F, F/M, Homeless Jughead Jones, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Jughead Jones-centric, Riverdale Characters (Mentioned only), Self-Hatred, Self-destructive habits, Violent FP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 13:48:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20408767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jughead Jones was twelve years old the first time he smoked a cigarette.Jughead Jones was fourteen years old when he ran away from home.Jughead Jones was seventeen when his friends betrayed him.





	Cigarettes

**Author's Note:**

> ANGST!!!!!!  
For some unknown reason I just love to make my favourite characterssuffer. Dont kill the writter.  
(I cried while writting it)

Jughead Jones was twelve years old the first time he smoked a cigarette. The memory had been engraved in his head like a red hot iron on flesh. 

He remembered a bottle of cheap whiskey flying unto the side of his face, shattering into a million pieces as he launched himself over Jellybean to protect her. But when he looked up, a thin line of blood dripping down, shock filled both children as they saw their own mother’s outstretched hand. She had thrown it, not FP. Not the alcoholic. Not the violent man. Their own mother. 

Even if FP was violent towards his wife when succumbed to alcohol, he never hit his kids. Never. But Gladys Jones had just broken a bottle on her eldest son’s head. 

An hour later both her and Jellybean had packed everything and opened the front door. But before Gladys could even take Jugheads hand he had bolted behind his father, who’s eyes where still alight with shock and anger.

Guilt but perseverance shined on the woman’s eyes as she cursed at FP for the last time before disappearing on her motorbike with her daughter.

With shaking hands, FP had cleaned the boy’s wound at best of his ability before hugging him eternally and disappearing to the bar. They would be fine. But there would be hell to pay before that.

As a clever kid, Jughead found a way to escape the trailer through a back window, even if FP left the front door locked for their security. He had walked thoughtlessly through the trailers until bumping into Tall Boy.

The man shoved him off with a laugh and threw a pack of cigarettes at him. “Light ‘em up, then inhale. Relax kid. Cancer won’t come until you grow up.”

Jughead burst into a violent fit of coughs as the Serpent laughed to himself while walking away. But days later he had perfected smoking.

Jughead Jones was almost fourteen when he ran away from home. The memory was engraved on his mind like and stamp on a postcard. 

Even after the events of Gladys’s departure, taking Jellybean along, FP refused to make any progress with his own issues. Promise after promise came, one after the other broken as easily as a cork is removed from a bottle. The Jones’s trailer reeked of alcohol even from the outside, quiet at night except for the soft snores of a passed out man in a couch and the fearful breathing of a hidden child in the pantry, exhaling small puffs of smoke, fingers burned by cigarettes.

So, just as his mother before him, Jughead left. He packed a huge camping bag, maybe as big as himself, equipped with the essentials. He left a note on the fridge that would not be discovered until two days later By Sweet Pea’s father, trying to help his fallen leader get back up. 

He spent the first week at the tree house, praying each night that Archie wouldn’t magically show up and kick him out. On the long nights of staring at the wooden roof, he pondered if Fred Andrews would take him in if he talked to his best friend. The idea was quickly shut down thought. 

The second week he spent on the park, under the willow tree where he and Jellybean used to play hide and seek. The nights were cold, too cold, but he could care less. There where bigger things to worry about. He craved for the relaxing smoke.

The third week was his birthday. Fifteen years old and homeless. Archie, oblivious to his friends problems, asked if he wanted a birthday party. He refused. Jughead Jones hated his birthday. Instead, the redhead gave him twenty bucks and a meal at a Pops, which he gratefuly accepted.

Later, ten bucks would be spent on a huge meal to last a week, and the other ten in as many cigarette packs as he could get. Half of it was gone by the fourth week.

On the fifth week he found the Drive-In. The owner vaguely asked for his age and gave him the job; Sell tickets, reel the films, keep it clean. He accepted and moved in the same afternoon.

Jughead Jones was seventeen when his friends betrayed him. The memory was engraved on his mind like a tattoo needle on skin. 

His mother turned him down.

His father was in prision.

His so called friends didn’t trust him.

So, just as his father found relief in a bottle, he found relief in a whole pack of cigarettes and endless sobbing outside the bus station before returning to Pop’s, eyes lifeless and fingers burned.

Jughead Jones was seventeen. Jughead a Jones was a smoker. But his secret was well kept. That is, until Betty found out. Then Toni. Then Archie. Then FP. And they where all willing to help fill his void without the cancer sticks.

Cuddling with Betty while watching a documentary on murder mysteries instead of a cigarette.

A game of paintball with the Serpent Youth instead of a cigarette.

Video games and pizza night with Archie instead of a cigarette.

Father and Son motorbike ride to the river instead of a cigarette.

It took time and effort. Suffering and constant disappointments. But there was hope.

Jughead Jones was eighteen when a year had passed without him touching a cigarette. And he was happy.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone has any prompts for Riverdale, please comment below!


End file.
